Archive for August, 2013

I’m still in the middle of writing the actual sex scene. Mordecai is as much of a control freak as Savin when it comes to his partners — maybe even worse. Savin just likes to hear the begging. Mordecai wants complete and utter control. He won’t let Vicky come until he says she can, etc, and no amount of begging will convince him to change his mind on that.

Except he is apparently into squirting so maybe he’ll let her come soon. I don’t know. Also, I forgot what it was like to completely “discovery write,” a piece longer than 5k. Like with most of the erotica I’ve been publishing, I’ve been borrowing a friend’s characters and disguising them a bit (or writing my own characters and disguising them), for the purpose of having already built characters to work with. Mordecai and Vicky? Entirely new people to me. I don’t know them all that well yet. I had an idea of what kind of direction I wanted to take their story in, but their personalities and their quirks and whatnot are all filling in as I write it.

Guys, this is why I write. I forgot what this felt like. I’m enjoying this piece and plowing through so much of it because I am just letting them guide me and take me places. When i’m not writing, I’m generally doing housework and the like, but I’ve also been watching the Brandon Sanderson Lectures over on youtube. They can also be found here, but I prefer the smaller chunks the youtube videos provide. They’re easier to swallow and watch, especially when chasing around a pre-schooler all day. 😉

I’ve written over 2500 words again, today. It’s glorious. I think I’m going to try and finish up the sex scene/maybe the whole piece (I foresee another chunk or three of these two to write, in my future) and go to bed. Maybe. We’ll see what happens.

Some writer started writing it not knowing what it was, and she’ll continue writing it forever just because this is the —

You guys get the idea. 😉 My newest Virginia Greene work is still, well, in the works, and at about 7k right now. On the weekends, I typically let myself write whatever I want. I might just continue writing this. I’m just about to hit the sexy part. Somehow, these characters kind of just…took over my brain. I’ll let them, because I’m having fun right now simply just winging it.

It’s been nice to get back into my “over 2k words a day” groove. I intend to keep writing for a little while longer, but learning some music might win out. We’ll see. 🙂 Here’s a some more of what I’ve written today:

***

“I would prefer it if you sat next to me, Ms. Morrison,” he murmured, offering her a slight smile. He gave Wesley a nod, who continued through the cabin, past another set of doors. With Wesley gone, Mordecai sat down in a seat, loosely crossing one leg over the other.

Vicky settled beside him, pressing her knees together as she rested her hands in her lap. Just as she opened her mouth to ask the slew of questions that had been brewing in the back of her mind, she felt a hand land between her shoulder blades. “Hold onto your questions for a moment longer,” Mordecai warned, his hand falling away from her. “There will be a flight attendant in a few moments, and once she is gone, you can speak.”

Her jaw snapped shut, just like that. She turned her eyes towards the ceiling of the plane, squinting at just how pristine the interior really was. Was this the life she would lead, now? One of decadence and extravagance? Was she even really made for this kind of life? Her appearance certainly wasn’t, what with her dry, mousy brown hair and muddy eyes.

She had been so lost in her thoughts, she didn’t even hear the flight attendant speaking. It was only when Mordecai tapped her sharply on the shoulder that she turned to look at him. He had slipped out of his suit jacket when she wasn’t looking, draping it over the back of the seat in front of them. He straightened his sleeves, those piercing blue eyes focused right on her. “You may speak now, Ms. Morrison.”

“Where are we –”

“Going? Back to California. I have some business I need to take care of, there. Next question.”

Vicky nodded, gulping a bit as she glanced at the floor. “What, exactly, do you need me for?” she asked, furrowing her brow. “I still don’t know what it is I’m supposed to do.”

Mordecai’s lips parted slowly, revealing his bright, even teeth one at a time. “Ah, Ms. Morrison, I am paying you to be my — companion, of sorts. On paper, you’ll be my assistant.”

“Companion?” she murmured, giving him another look in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I am a very busy man, Ms. Morrison,” he began. He then leaned in close again, his smile turning predatory. “And I know that you are a far more intelligent woman than many would like to believe. Surely you can figure it out for yourself?” His eyes flashed and he leaned back in his seat, some, his fingers deftly undoing the knot in his tie.

Vicky’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open once more. “You can’t be — that’s illegal!”

“I am aware of the legality issue. I believe I mentioned that last night,” Mordecai muttered, pulling the now undone tie away from his neck. “I used to rely on escort services in the past, but as my name gains notoriety, I’m afraid I don’t want to give the tabloids any ideas.”

“You can’t — can’t just expect me to — to –” Vicky clenched her jaw, forcing herself to take a moment and breathe. To think. “Am I allowed to say no?” she asked, her voice shaking.

“Absolutely,” he answered, smiling at her. “I would much rather have a willing partner — but if you initially consent, you have to follow my every order until I am finished with you.”

…So I started working on this piece, right, where this waitress trips and literally lands in the lap of a billionaire with this ridiculous name that I love. She gets fired, he offers her a “job,” all’s right with the world.

Except the piece is 4.5k now and um… I think I wanna turn it into a serial like Say What You Want, which I have four planned parts for it. I think I’m within 1000 words of it turning sexy (which will add on at least another 1000 words) and then I can wrap it up with a “come back for another installment,” type deal…

Oooorrr, I might just turn this into my “project” (after I finish the next part of Say What You Want, which is my project for next week), write the whole book, then publish the whole thing as a romance novel kind of deal, under the Victoria Greene pen name. I’m not 100% on which I want to do yet, but I miss writing lengthier stuff and I feel strangely inspired by this piece and just want to keep on going. If I decide to release it all at once instead of in chunks like Say What You Want, I’m hoping I can finish it by November. I have 4k words now; I can’t really see it being much longer than 40k. I dunno.

But here is the opening section:

***

Vicky Morrison couldn’t believe it.

She stumbled, the toe of her shoe catching on the slightly raised step. She fell, order and all, into the lap of the most powerful man in the country. Mordecai Falconi sat, arms at his sides and with a look of abject horror on his chiseled features.

The world slowed down. Everything stopped, even the music in the small cafe. Sensing the silence, Vicky began stammering apologies over and over and picked herself out of Mordecai Falconi’s lap. Just as the music started again, she began desperately trying to brush off the food that covered his suit that had to be worth more than a few months’ wages.

Her manager, Marv, hovered over them within seconds, asking if there was anything he could offer for the inconvenience. Vicky gave her manager an apologetic look, which earned her a stern glare in response from Marv before another sickly sweet smile overtook his features.

“It’s quite alright,” Falconi uttered, gratefully taking the towel one of Vicky’s coworkers had offered him. He dabbled it over his front, a slight frown on his face. His steel grey eyes locked with Vicky’s for a moment, and his frown deepened. “Accidents happen, after all,” he continued, focusing his attention on Marv once again.

Vicky released the breath she’d been holding, collecting the rest of the plates back on her tray. “I’ll go put the order back in, Marv,” she muttered, managing one of her best smiles towards Falconi. “It was for another table, anyway. I’ll go apologize to them, too, for the wait.”

Marv nodded curtly. Without another word, Vicky turned on her heel and headed back into the kitchens. As she called in the replacement meals for her table, she sneaked away to the bathroom. She tried to clean herself up as best as she could, drying her shirt off some with the automatic hand-dryers.

Mordecai Falconi. She tripped and fell on top of Mordecai Falconi. A lump formed in her throat as tears stung her eyes. She willed them back down and breathed in deeply. The man at least hadn’t made a fuss. Marc would yell at her, she knew that for certain. It was only a matter of time before he cornered her and gave her a piece of his mind.

As she slipped back into the kitchen to pick up her other table’s meals, Marv stood between her and the food waiting to be brought out to customers. He tapped his foot against the tile floor, hands firmly placed on his hips. “The hell do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, crossing his arms over his chest. “You practically covered Mordecai Falconi from head to toe in food. He could shut us down with bad publicity if he really wanted to –”

“I — I’m sorry, Marv, I didn’t mean –”

“I don’t give a damn whether or not you meant to,” Marv spat, getting in Vicky’s face. She could smell garlic on his breath. “This is the fifth time you tripped and dropped food all over a customer — get the fuck out of my restaurant and don’t come back.”

The tears came back, threatening to spill over as Vicky bit her bottom lip. She ignored how her lip quivered and how her chest tightened at Marv’s words. She didn’t argue, instead turning on her heel and walking right out of the kitchen. With the way Marv spoke to her, there’d be no point in it, anyway.

Whispers followed her as she stepped back onto the dining area, the eyes of various customers following her. As she passed Falconi’s table, the billionaire looked up from his meal. Those piercing blue eyes of his caught her attention, causing her to stumble over that same raise in the floor yet again. This time, she caught her balance and looked away from him, a familiar heat rising to her cheeks.

It’s not like Falconi would ever be interested in a woman like her. The man was successful. Powerful. If she had impressed him — if she had done a good job, then maybe, just maybe she would have finally shown herself to be an asset to Marv’s restaurant. But that was at the absolute most. Instead, she had gotten fired.

She blinked her tears away again as she pushed through the front doors, her shoes padding softly against the sidewalk. No more long days standing on her aching feet. No more customers to yell at her for the slightest mistake.

No more pay, either, she thought bitterly to herself as she shoved her hands in her pockets. No more school. She’d have to drop out — there would be no way for her to afford it now. Vicky frowned, wrapping her arms around herself and gripping the sleeves of her shirt. The walk home was long, but uneventful as she made her way up the stairs to her apartment.

She unlocked the door, swinging it open and managing a small smile as her cat chirped at her. The calico cat brushed against her legs before skittering off somewhere unseen. Sighing, Vicky shucked off her shoes and placed them on the small shoe rack beside the door. She reached behind her, unhooking her bra strap and removing the offending piece of fabric without even bothering to take off her shirt, first.

It wasn’t like she would be having any company over, anyway. Or anywhere to go — especially since she should have been at the restaurant for another five hours or so. She tossed the bra into her bedroom before making her way back out to the living room. Vicky collapsed onto her couch, lying down on it and propping her feet up on the other arm. Her cat jumped onto her stomach, curling up into a tight ball.

Vicky glanced around the quiet room, noticing the mail she had piled up on the small, glass coffee table in front of the couch. Without a second thought, she knocked them over, watching as the papers scattered to the floor. With her other hand, she scratched behind her cat’s ears and closed her eyes.

Fired. She didn’t have a second job. She’d have to go looking — again. What restaurant would want a clutz like her? She was friendly enough, and customers tended to like her and her soft-spoken nature, but Marv was right. Her feet were never sure of themselves, always tripping over the slightest changes in the terrain of the restaurant floor. He only knew about five of the times she had lost food due to her clumsiness. There had been a dozen other times, each time more drastic than the last.

Still, she had never expected to trip and dump all of her food on the Mordecai Falconi. Vicky groaned, putting her hand to face and burying her fingers in her hair, combing the loose strands back. Her cat opened a single eye, giving her an admonishing look before closing its eye again with a yawn. She knew about that one step. She knew she shouldn’t have gone that way — that she should have picked a different route to her table. Except the tray had been heavy and her arms burning with exertion, and that path was the shortest to the her table, and —

Vicky shook her head. It didn’t matter why she picked that path. It didn’t matter that she could have gone another way. She couldn’t go back and change it. What was done was done. Sighing, she closed her eyes.

Bill Watterson is, in some ways, a huge inspiration and a hero for me.

The message of this comic is simple: do what you truly want to do. Find the path in life that works for you, and really makes you happy.

As a writer — scratch that, as a professional writer who is finding their way in the self-publishing world and developing a true writer platform, I needed to see this comic now, more than ever. My personal life is at a huge crossroads. My wife has decided she doesn’t want a romantic relationship with me anymore. We’re still determining the mechanics of our separation, and how we want to proceed with that.

A month ago, I dove head first into looking for a job — any job. My goal? Get the hell out of this house as soon as possible. My version of giving my wife the middle finger, essentially, and a way to communicate how hurt and betrayed I felt. Except slowly, I realized that searching for a job killed any urge I had to push through life and keep living. That job searching made me even angrier than I already was.

Writing pulled me back together. Publishing something and seeing it sell a measly five copies brought a smile back to my face. So all of those hours of intermittent work only had a pay off of 10 bucks. Whatever. I made ten bucks.

Doing what I love and making money off it? Even if it’s not a lot?

That’s worth far more to me than anything else in the world — especially since I can stay at home, provide childcare for my son, and actually make myself happy. It’s no longer a hobby, it’s the real deal.

Alex Farrington is a lonely, unbelievably sexy scientist with one lovely robot companion named Carla. During Carla’s stay with Alex, he learns that she believes she once used to be a human being. Now, she hardly remembers what her original body looked like, but memories of a past life where she wasn’t rusting and falling apart stick with her. In an effort to make her feel human again, Alex builds her a new body. A body any woman would envy, one that feels real and reacts to human touch.

Carla’s so appreciative of his gift to her, that she gives him the ride of his life — all to see whether she’s truly is “fully functional,” like he claims.

WARNING: The above work is intended for a mature, 18+ audience. Not safe for work, erotica, etc etc. 😉

A Snippet:

Her lips brushed against his own, soft and even warm for a moment. “I don’t think you actually want me to get dressed,” she breathed as she pulled away. “Tell me, Alex. Just how…’functional’ am I, now?”

“Fully,” was his quick response. He wished the heat in his face would die away, but he ignored that as best he could as he watched Carla’s every move.

She turned her back to him, pulling the sheet aside as she bowed her head. “So — that part should work as a normal woman’s, right?”

“In theory,” Alex muttered, tearing his eyes away from her. Instead, he focused his attention back on his desk, shuffling already organized paperwork around. “I didn’t have any real way to test it.”

He felt hands on his shoulders as Carla pressed against him, one of her hands trailing down his front and picking at the buttons of his shirt. He could feel her artificial breath against his neck. “Would you like to test it now?” She turned him around, pushing him up against his desk as her hands roamed over his clothed chest. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, Alex, even when I was in that other body.”

Alex’s his breath caught in his throat at her words, a familiar warmth filling him as he noticed Carla still wore only the sheet that had originally covered her body. Those green eyes of hers flashed, her smile almost predatory as she slipped between his legs, her hands ghosting along his thighs. “I don’t — I don’t know what you’re talking about, Carla,” he managed, wishing his pants didn’t suddenly feel so tight.

Carla laughed, her smile widening as she unbuttoned his shirt. “You’re an awful liar,” she teased. One hand rubbed against his crotch, eliciting a small moan from Alex. “You built me this body so we could have sex, right? A lonely man like yourself — why else would you make sure I looked and felt so lifelike?”

Alex’s cheeks burned as he nodded his head. He reached out, hesitantly placing his hands on Carla’s hips. “Does that — does that bother you?” he asked.

Carla just moved closer to him, the thin sheet slipping lower on her body and barely covering her chest as she did so. She pushed his now unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders, revealing Alex’s bare chest. “As long as I have the right to tell you no, I have no issue you with you wanting me, Alex,” she answered, kissing along the edge of his neck.